


Authoritarian

by Harpalyke (orphan_account)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Choking, Corporal Punishment, Creampie, Crying, Dirty Talk, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Father/Daughter Incest, Forced Oral Sex, Forced Orgasm, Humiliation, Impregnation, Insults in German, Loss of Innocence, Loss of Virginity, Period-Typical Sexism, Rough Sex, Spanking, Squirting, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 14:41:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20259748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Harpalyke
Summary: After watching a film about the Holocaust in her eighth-grade history lesson, Heni has a disturbing revelation about her father's involvement in the second war. He catches her sneaking into his study and finding clues about his past, and promptly puts her in her place.





	Authoritarian

It took forever for the bell to ring at three o’clock, signaling the end of the school day. Eighth grade for Heni wasn’t any worse than eighth grade in general, but that school day had been…odd. In fourth lesson, history, a film was shown that gave her a prickling, uncomfortable feeling.

Her walk home was usually pleasant, since she lived in one of the nicest neighborhoods in London. On Heyes Street, where she lived, the Victorian houses were spread apart, the spaces filled with gardens, and only one family lived in each. 

Today, however, a blue car pulled up halfway there and honked at her. “Oi, it’s the little Rahm girl!” called a teenage boy with slicked-back blonde hair: Samuel Hill, son of financier Henry Hill who lived in a mansion by the Thames. “Want a ride home?”

“No, thanks,” Heni said automatically because _only trollops ride in cars with boys_, according to Mary Mays, her mother’s friend and the mayor’s wife. Plus, nosy old Mrs. Grisham was sunning on her lawn within even her earshot.

Hill slapped the door of his car, visibly annoyed. “Well, at least lower your arms, then!”

Confused, Heni did as told, waiting for him to explain, but all he said was, “Mm, aren’t you nice on the eyes, sweetheart,” before driving away. While the statement repeated itself in her head, shame crept up as a flush in her face. But below, something entirely different, in between her legs.

Finally, she was sliding her key into Number 1421 and bounding into the foyer. “Hi, Bonnie!” she called, trotting up the stairs, but the maid didn’t respond. Now that the encounter with Hill had moved to the back of her mind, her heart started thumping, reminding her of her mission. _The film—Father’s study…_

Heni’s father, Karl Rahm, was high-ranked in the Department of Treasury, but what he actually did at work—and at home—was a complete mystery to her. All of his time home was spent in his study, where she was headed now, since he and her mother were away for the weekend.

She’d never been in there; she must’ve learned early on somehow that she was not welcome. Knowing her father, it was probably the spanking of her life. Her hand shook as she clasped the knob, expecting it to be locked. It turned in her hand and she crept in.

The study wasn’t much different than what she expected: smoke-scented air, leather armchairs, handsome oak furniture, including a large desk in front of wall-to-wall bookshelves. Heni decided to start there, sliding the first book she touched into her hands. It was in German; a quick scan of the titles on the spines told her they all were, except for a dictionary.

Letting out a huff, Heni returned it to the shelf and turned to the desk. What exactly was she looking for? _You’ll know when you find it. _She opened the top drawer and found a small, glossy square atop a stack of newspapers. The photograph depicted a young Karl Rahm in decorated uniform, the same stern expression and blank blue eyes she’d seen her entire life. She’d heard him laugh maybe once, behind this closed door with his mates.

In the white space on the bottom, _Theresienstadt 1944 _was scrawled in faded ink. A half-minute passed of Heni staring at the photo before she spotted a familiar symbol on his hat, stark black against white: _the swastika_.

Heni’s breath clumped in her throat. Earlier that day in the history lesson, they’d watched a film entitled _The Nazis’ Reign of Terror_. Footage from the second war was shown of barbed-wire fences and skeletal masses, dying people in front of rifles held by identical marching soldiers. They’d been dressed exactly like the handsome young man in the photograph.

By now, Heni’s heart was pounding in her ears. She pulled out the newspapers, but they too were in German, dated from 1932-1945. She placed everything neatly back in the drawer and moved on to the next one. This one had shiny objects: polished silver pins she recognized as having been on the uniform of her young father. There was the swastika again, much larger up close, and two silver lightning bolts with sharp, straight top and bottom edges. The pins were encased in a velvet box. 

Gingerly, Heni took it out, set it on the desk, and pulled out a manila folder labeled ‘1944.’ Only two years before Heni was born—her father had been a Nazi and came to England right after the second war. If Germany had let him go, he must’ve been innocent, she assured herself. Then she opened the folder and attempted to read the first page.

_KZ Theresienstadt. 19 Mar 1944. Komm. Stf. Rahm. _Alright, but what did KZ stand for? Heni scanned the rest of the page. Here—_Konzentrationslager_. Concentration camp: Theresienstadt was its name and her father had been there.

Chest heaving, Heni leaned back in the chair, trying to sort her thoughts. No one could say that Karl Rahm was a nice person. She’d seen him hit her mother and call her names like _bitch _and _whore_, in English and German. He paid no attention at all to Heni, his only child. But to send people straight to their deaths? Worst of all, his status in England excused all of it, even his past.

The rambling in her head was cut short by sheer terror as heavy footsteps advanced up the stairs just beyond the far wall. Heni’s insides turned to lead, while her hands slammed the folder closed and shoved it back in the drawer. Just as they closed around the velvet case with the pins, the door swung open, freezing her in place.

For a moment, Karl Rahm simply stared at his daughter as if she was an unexpected guest. Then, the darkening of his clear blue eyes: pure, cold contempt. 

“Just what do you think you’re doing in here?”

“I’m sorry—I—” Heni stammered, trembling from head to toe. The sudden _slam _of the door made her jump in fright.

“How old are you, Henioche?”

“Huh?” she blurted, thrown off.

“_Dummes Mädchen_, are you deaf?” Karl spat. “How old are you?” 

“Four-fourteen.” Tears threatened to fall, but she kept her wide eyes on his chest, hoping they’d go away.

"After 14 years, you still don’t know your place in this house? Why are you in here?” 

His eyes were lasers burning through her flesh. The toe of his leather Oxfords tapped against the floor while he folded his arms and glowered at his daughter. “Answer me, Henioche.”

Her mouth could form nothing except, “You were a Nazi, Father.”

He cocked his head to the side. “From where did you hear that term?” 

“Fr-from my history lesson, Father.”

The contempt was back in his eyes. “Get out of my chair.” Heni stood up while he strode to the leather armchairs, took a seat, and patted his leg. “Come here, Henioche.”

Knowing what was coming, though it had been a few years, his daughter assumed the position, draping herself over his lap. He gripped her neck, bending her back, while his other hand pulled up her pleated skirt.

Her face flushed, now that her knickers were out in the open, and then he yanked those down, too. “What the hell is this school teaching you? History lessons for girls—absurd! They need to be teaching you domestic skills, not about events too complex for silly little girls to understand.”

Heni yelped and jerked forward, rear stinging from his sharp slap. He pinched the soft pad of flesh, flooding her face with tears. “Fat little arse you’ve got,” he taunted. “It jiggles when I spank it, see?” 

_Smack! _He was speaking again, but Heni couldn’t hear him over the ringing in her ears. She was gasping for air, like a fish out of water. His hand gripped her tighter, cutting off her air supply, with each smack to her bottom. Then he abruptly let go and she rolled off his lap, crashing painfully to the floor.

_“Steh auf.” _

Shuddering and sniffling, Heni sat upright and wiped her eyes on her arm. Her father merely glared at her, his hand resting on his belt buckle. Slowly, he began to undo it while Heni watched in horror.

“Father—”

“_Fresse…komm… _Now you will learn your place, girl, serving me on your knees.”

The sight of his cock, large and rock-hard, dissolved Heni into a weeping mess. “No, no! Daddy, please no!” 

“Oh, Daddy now, is it?” Karl mocked, wrapping his fist around her hair and pulling her face toward his cock until she was forced to part her lips and take it into her mouth. “Daddy’s girl needs a lesson in obedience.” 

It wouldn’t have been awful if the crying wasn’t stuffing up her nose, if he wasn’t yanking her hair at the root, if she wasn’t on her knees sucking her father’s cock. The tears returned full-force and her gut filled with thick, roiling shame. In response to her distress, Karl clutched her head and thrust deeper into her mouth, his tip plugging up the back of her throat. Choking on her ever-flowing saliva, soaking his cock and the patch of dark, curly hair above it, Heni dug her hands into his thighs and struggled against him. 

Just when she thought for sure she was about to take her last breath, her father tightened his hold around her head and slowly slid his cock out of her mouth. A string of saliva connected it to her lower lip, while a flood of it poured down her chin. At this point, Heni’s whole face was wet and her eyes so swollen she could barely see.

“Stand up, Henioche.” He gave her a swift tap on her cheek to her moving, tucking away his erection and redoing his trousers.

She stood on wobbly legs, endless tears flowing down her face. “Please, Daddy, don’t hurt me anymore,” she sobbed as he stood and marched her out of the study, his hand clamped around her upper arm. 

Oddly, her parents’ magazine-photo bedroom calmed her—he wouldn’t hurt her in here, would he? The close of the door and the click of the lock answered _yes_. Where on Earth was her mother? Likely downstairs in the parlor with her best friends, happy pills and wine.

Karl sat on the edge of the bed and held up a hand. “Stand right there. And undress.”

Just as Heni was calming down—now her nervous system was on overdrive again. 

“Do as I say, Henioche,” he commanded, tightening his lips. Not wanting to anger him further, Heni unbuttoned her blouse, pain white except for the St. Margaret’s School for Girls insignia above the right pocket. That came off along with her skirt, but she found she could not remove her bra and knickers. The idea of her father seeing her naked filled her with so much shame, she was dizzy with it. 

However, she didn’t have a choice. “_Kleine Schlampe_, take it _off_,” Karl hissed through his teeth. A minute later, his trembling daughter stood in front of him in only her knee-socks.

Her hands clamped around her thick thighs to prevent them from cupping her mound and covering her lower lips peeking out of a small tuft of hair. She was aware of how large her milky-white breasts were—she was the tallest and most developed girl in the entire eighth grade—and her pale pink nipples stiffening in the cool air. 

Karl looked her up and down, his eyes so full of hunger he appeared half-mental, like a wolf gone days without a meal. “Come here, Henioche.”

Heni stepped forward, her bottom lip quivering. When he raised his hand, she flinched, expecting to get hit, but he cupped her breasts and lightly pinched her nipples before running his palms down her torso. “Such cute little tits,” he remarked, giving one a slap. “Daddy’s little girl is growing into a pretty plaything.”

Heni stood still, mind turned to mush, as his fingers slid between her thighs. He withdrew them, pressing hard against her soft, pink flesh, sending jolts of electricity through her limbs. They dragged across a particularly sensitive area, making Heni squirm with pain and…something else. The same feeling she’d had when Hill in his fancy car checked her out.

“Lie on your back with your hands over your head.”

Once she was down, he leaned over her and spread her legs, examining her. Then his dark-haired head was between her thighs, his tongue against her folds. And bloody hell, it felt _good._

“Mm, Daddy’s little whore has such a tasty cunt,” he breathed against her lower lips before spreading them with his thumbs and dipping his tongue into her.

_No, this is horrible, I don’t like—I do like—no, oh God, no… _Yet her body was screaming _yes_, rocking her hips and letting out tiny whimpers. Her hands clasped onto the bedsheet above her head, pulling her hair a bit, but any pain was drowned out by her father licking her out, sinking his fingertips into her thighs.

Desire consumed her, but then he leaned back, licked her fluid from his lips, and slid a finger into her clenching slit. After a few thrusts, he fit in another, stretching her tight hole. Heni hissed in pain, but that was overtaken by an immense shot of pleasure when his thumb found a tiny nub of nerves right below her mound and began to rub. 

“You’re going to come for me,” Karl growled, giving it to her harder with his fingers. “I’m going to loosen up this sweet, tight cunt and give it a good fucking while you moan like the little whore you are.” 

“Oh—oh—Daddy—_oh_!” Heni cried, writhing with desire, yearning for something unknown. Her face contorted and her ears rang again… She threw her head back, muscles seizing, as a squirt of hot fluid soaked Karl’s hand and puddled into the blanket below. 

Breathing heavily, Heni lay limp, floating on a soft cloud until the _zzip _of his trousers startled her lucid. Karl leaned over her again and she felt the tip of his cock against her folds, ready to push its way in.

“No, Daddy, please no!” she bawled, but he clapped a hand over her mouth.

_“Shh.” _He leaned further, placing them nearly face-to-face. In his eyes Heni saw amusement—he enjoyed hurting her.

“No!” she screamed into his palm, thrashing and clawing. Her nails grazed his cheek, turning his amusement into fury. He leaned up and slapped her hard across the face. 

“Do not defy me, you little bitch, or I will fuck you until my cock is covered in blood.”

Crying, Heni lay still, letting him hold her wrists up and enter her, biting her lip against the pain. “No, please,” she squeaked one more time, knowing he wouldn’t listen.

“Mm, how good you feel,” Karl coaxed, stroking her tear-soaked cheek. “Your hot, tight cunt is swallowing my cock right up. Daddy’s baby girl takes it like a filthy slut. I made you perfect for me, Henioche.”

He was fully inside, his hands wrapping around her throat. By now, Heni had deduced that it was useless to fight, for Karl would only get angry and hurt her more. Best way to get through it was to lay limp. 

Except now his hands were tightening around her throat, blocking her airway entirely this time. Her shoulders jerked, her eyes bulged, and her hands pawed desperately at his wrists but they wouldn’t let up. Meanwhile, he pumped into her, growling half in English, half in German, unconcerned with her plight. Dazzling silver and white stars took over her vision, blackness hovered in the periphery, even more tears burned her eyes, which were rolling back… _Well, this is it, game over, they’ll find me in the Thames…_

Grunting, he gave one last thrust, let go, and filled her with his hot seed. It felt like it was taking over her whole abdomen, searching for that egg, some streaming out of her slit and soaking her arse cheeks.

“That’s one hole filled,” he said, smirking, watching his seed drip out of her swollen, reddened lower lips. He gave them a spank, a loud, wet _clap _echoing around the room. “Naughty girl likes when Daddy plays with her little cunt, hmm?”

Now that Heni was further from the brink of death, the burning, ugly shame was back and stronger than ever, bringing sobs to her sore throat. Unable to look at Karl, she scooped up her clothing and bolted to her room. 

It was only late afternoon and soon the maid would come calling her for supper, but Heni could neither stand nor see straight. After wiping up the come splattered across her inner thighs, she pulled on a nightgown and climbed into bed.

When Bonnie had made the bed, she’d placed Heni’s stuffed rabbit between the pillows. It was this Heni held to her chest, burying her face into its matted fur. Something familiar—though the rest of her room looked the same as it had for the past 14 years, it seemed alien, like it belonged to a different girl.

Aching and used and crying, Heni curled up and squeezed the stuffed bunny against her chest. She could almost feel her father’s seed fertilizing her egg and implanting it in her womb, a creation spawned from pure evil.


End file.
